


Beast's Embrace

by Aster_Writes_Here



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, I ignore the tone and setting of the game to deliver you this bon appetit, M/M, Werewolves, light body horror, tfw your crush turns into a giant golden retriver
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-23 08:28:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23008609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aster_Writes_Here/pseuds/Aster_Writes_Here
Summary: When his dearest friend begins to succumb to the beastly scourge, Quincy is willing to be ripped apart by a mindless beast if it means he can provide some comfort to Alfred by staying by his side as he changes.Quincy expected a painful fight and an inevitable mercy killing, not the risk of being snuggled to death by Yharnam’s newest and friendliest beast. For once, the near constant strangeness of Yharnam is becoming a bit silly---A very silly au one shot that starts off rather serious. Alfred turns into a giant, friendly beast and the Hunter has to deal with getting him to safety and being lovingly slobbered on.
Relationships: Alfred/The Hunter (Bloodborne), Djura/Djura's Ally
Comments: 11
Kudos: 93





	1. Chapter 1

Quincy had tried to ignore it. As a Hunter, he had become horribly familiar with the beastly scourge and its signs. The transformed Hunter mob that lurched and howled about the city was a living example of the mid stages of the disease, men stretched and twisted into strange shapes.

So when he noticed that his hunting partner and his dearest friend’s slowly collapsing pupils, perpetual smell of blood, musk and something otherworldly, Quincy had tried desperately to overlook it. Maybe it was a trick of the light. Maybe it was the scent from hunting beasts all night that clung to him somehow, despite Quincy knowing damn well that Alfred was more fastidious in cleaning habits then anyone else in the city, 

But when Alfred happily greeted him one day, smiling with noticeably lengthened canines, Quincy was faced with the fact that inevitably, his hunting partner would become the hunted. Alfred had remained oblivious, or perhaps in denial of any changes, and it would have broken Quincy’s heart to tell him.

Alfred was a stalwart, determined, if mysterious, hunter. Surely he was too dedicated to his own mysterious mission to turn into a mindless monster? 

Of course, as Quincy had learned, Clerics turned into the most horrible of Beasts. 

\---

Quincy checked his watch, then looked skyward. Another moody Yharnam Twilight, the orange sun casting its dying light over crumbling gothic architecture, illuminating gargoyles, wrought iron fences and cracked cobblestones. Citizens locked and barricaded their doors, the Church stockpiled incense to ward off the beasts, and the Hunters descended upon the city. Quincy idly wondered how he got into this mess. 

He stuffed the pocket watch back in his duster’s pocket, taking care that the chain was secured, and set out for the Shrine of Logarius. Chapel Ward had remained relatively safe, possibly due to the lumbering Church Giants and the vast amounts of incense the church burned. It had become a habit for Quincy to meet up with Alfred around this time at the shrine. 

The man was quite punctual, always praying devotedly to his mentor around twilight for luck on the hunt. Quincy, never a religious man, still admired his friend’s faith. While the statue and balcony that it was placed on was visible from the courtyard leading to the Chapel, Quincy knew better then to call out from the ground floor and disturb Alfred’s prayer.

However, tonight, as he descended the steps to the shrine, Quincy knew something was wrong. Instead of diligently praying, Alfred was leaning on the shrine, bracing himself against it, head bowed.

“You alright there, Partner?” Quincy called out nervously. Perhaps he just had a headache. Or was stretching.

Anything but the Plague. Please. Anything but the Plague.

“Stay back.” Alfred shouted, not turning. His voice sounded deeper, raspier. 

Quincy froze. He could hear Alfred’s labored breathing from where he stood, meters away. He cautiously approached.

“Gods...why now? With so much left unfinished.” Alfred rasped, clutching the sides of the altar. “Master, Great Oedon, anyone-please help me.” He did not turn around as Quincy approached from his back.

“Pal…?” Quincy tried. Alfred did not look up, or acknowledge he was there. His hair-had it always been so long?- covered his face. His hands tightened their grip on the altar. Quincy realized with shock that bloodied claws had painfully sprouted from his friend’s fingertips, penetrating the thick leather of his gloves.

“I told you to stay back, please. I fear the scourge has finally got me, my friend.” Alfred ruefully chuckled, trying to make an attempt at joviality. “Here I thought this would never happen…”

Quincy reached forward, brushing the golden locks of hair away from Alfred’s face. His pupils had collapsed fully, resembling the eyes of a goat more than a man, the green irises having gone cloudy. Alfred grasped Quincy’s wrist, as gently as he could muster with his new talons. 

“I can hardly leave you like this.” Quincy said, clasping Alfred’s hand with his own. White fur had sprouted under his gloves. Quincy could feel Alfred’s hand transforming in his grasp, broadening and tearing the leather of his gauntlets. 

“You know what beasts are capable of. It doesn’t matter if we are close as men-once I am taken by it, I will tear you to shreds.” 

“I’m a Hunter of the dream. I’ll come back.” Quincy said softly. “I’d reckon a death from comforting a dear friend in his time of need is a noble one.”

“Kill me now, I beg of you.” Alfred whispered hoarsely. Quincy shook his head sadly.

“I can’t,” was all he could say. 

If only they had met under better circumstances. Even in his half transformed state, Quincy still felt his heart ache looking at his fellow hunter. Perhaps he should have confessed his feelings sooner, but he had enough sense not to go and profess love in the midst of a crisis. If only they had met in any other way-perhaps in one of the dirty, rowdy Yharnam pubs as Quincy tried to order anything without Blood. Perhaps on the docks of Yharnam, or on the road, as happy, inquisitive strangers. Even in this chapel, by this shrine, in happier times where the idea your neighbors, friends, family and yourself could turn into mindless monsters at any time was something only in penny dreadfuls and nightmares.

“That crazy hunter-Djura-I’ll take you to him.” It was a shot in the dark, but the man cared about beasts, enough to gun down Quincy on sight. He would certainly take Alfred in, keeping him safe from any hunters.

“You’ll deliver me to that crackpot?” Alfred laughed hysterically, lacking any mirth. “You ought to do it now-if I could only stand, and I doubt you could carry me.”

Quincy’s hand flew to his mouth in horror as he looked down at Alfred’s legs. Somewhere between that of a man’s and a dog, painfully twisted into hocks.

“It will be like with the beast on the bridge. As a beast, you’ll want me dead. I’ll have you chase me to old Yharnum, and close the gate. It’ll be like a bull fight.”

“So thoughtful, as always…” A shudder passed through Alfred’s body, dropping him to his knees. “Please, Gods-let me be human, just a little while longer.” He cried out desperately. “I was to finish my master’s work! I need-I need to free him! No one else can do it!”

Risking his life, Quincy wrapped his arms around Alfred’s broad shoulders, holding his shaking form tightly. 

“I cannot guarantee your safety.” Alfred grasped Quincy’s hands to show silent gratitude for the embrace, accidentally poking the other man’s gloves with his claws. 

“I won’t leave you.” Quincy reassured him. “No matter what. Do you need anythin’ for the pain?”

“Do not think ill of me.” Alfred muttered, looking doward.

“Alfred. I won’t judge you for whatever you took.” Quincy said comfortingly. Alfred laughed breathlessly. 

“Four lead elixirs. That’s what it took to squelch the pain down to standable.” Quincy hugged him tighter.

\---

Alfred’s transformation was thankfully slow and gradual. Quincy had seen Huntsmen rapidly change form, in a burst of blood, bones reshaping, hair sprouting, all in seconds with no regard to the victim’s health or sanity. Instead, under the thickly draped holy shawl, Alfred shuddered and moaned at whatever changes were taking place. Quincy had tried to keep him in his embrace, tightly holding him for any measure of comfort, trying to not to think about the shifting and cracking and reshaping of bones, but it became impossible as the transformation progressed. He kept his gaze skyward, Alfred laying as a heavy, twitching weight on his lap. 

Quincy never looked down. He could handle grotesque sights, but seeing it happen to a friend, someone he loved-his heart could not bear it.

Despite the unfolding tragedy, the night was oddly quiet. Perhaps Alfred’s transformation was keeping other beasts at bay. In the cold of the Yharnam night, the difficulty of remaining unmoving for so long with either his eyes closed or turned skyward, Quincy found himself beginning to drift.

The weight moved from his lap, the holy shawl dragging for a moment against his knees. Quincy roused to full alertness in seconds. For some reason, Alfred had moved behind the Shrine of Logarius, only visible by the end of his holy shawl. Quincy rose, groaning as his knees cracked.

“Alfred? Partner?” He asked, beginning to move to the other side of the shrine. 

“No need to be bashful, I wasn’t looking.” Quincy had to be lighthearted, casual, or else he would break down crying.

Alfred was hunched behind the shrine, still covered by the holy shawl. As Quincy approached, he slowly began to stand up. As the shroud fell off a massive fur covered back, Quincy realized that his friend was not human at all anymore. 

He should have drawn his pistol, tried to get the creature’s attention, but he found himself, once again unable to move. The beast turned, baring an impressive set of fangs. Faster than it’s size should have allowed, it charged at Quincy, knocking him to the stone tiled floor.

Quincy squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the monster’s hot breath on him. He did not want to see the beast’s slavering jaws and wild eyes as it began to…

lick...his face..?

Quincy’s eyes flew open to the sight of a beast looming above him, one whose expression matched that of a dopey, loving dog more than that of a snarling wolf, despite its sizable fangs and tusks. Its massive, furry head shot forward, trying to lick his face again.

“Hey now-stop that!” Quincy yelped, trying to gently push the creature back. The beast licked the tip of his nose, panting happily. Quincy crab-walked backwards, unable to process what was happening. 

Alfred had transformed into a wolfish monster-much like some of the unlucky citizens of Yharnam, or the monster they had fought on the bridge. His head had the same distinctive wolf-like shape, with a long snout lined with impressive teeth and fangs. Except, instead of a snarling, pointed scourge beast, his head looked more like the soft, friendly face of dog.

Unlike other beasts Quincy had seen, his whitish-blonde fur was soft and shiny, lacking any balding or mangy spots that the wolflike scourge beasts often sported. A fluffy blond mane crowned his head, falling over his eyes. Two clean, white tusks sprouted from his bottom jaw, curling upwards. Well, Alfred had always been meticulous about grooming, and it seemed even turning into a beast would not change that. 

The beast was not very scary, excepting the fact that he was around the size of a small carriage-in fact, now that Quincy had a good look at him, he looked rather cute, reminding him more of a happy, well fed golden retriever rather than a feral, ravenous wolf.

Quincy cautiously reached out a hand, moving the creature’s fur out of its face, revealing two bright green eyes, the pupils remaining as horizontal bars. The beast licked his wrist. 

“Good grief. You turned into a damn giant dog.” Quincy laughed. 

Well, Alfred’s executioner robes were done for. The transformation had torn them to shreds-some still valiantly clinging to him. The beast-no, it was still Alfred, was he not? But it felt so strange to think that this creature used to be a man not too long ago. He tripped on the remains of his sweater as he tried to draw closer to Quincy. 

“Hold on, let me help with that, pal.” Quincy stood up, trying to help the beast with removing some of the remaining clothing scraps. Pulling down the last bits of his robes, Quincy found himself dodging vigorous tail wags. Vicious beast indeed, he thought as he took a paw to gently remove the last scraps of gloves. The creature shook out like a dog after a bath, then looked up expectantly at Quincy.

“Now don’t go and tackle me again. That hurt.” Quincy said firmly. “Heavens, what am I going to do with you?” Quincy sighed, thinking. 

“Alfred, do...you still understand me? As a beast?” Well, it was worth a shot. Quincy studied Alfred, expectantly. The beast merely cocked his maned head to the side to reveal a comically tiny, pointed doglike ear, still panting happily. Well, at least he wasn’t in pain, and seemed rather content. He then flopped on his back, looking up at Quincy again.

“You want me to rub your belly? Alfred...don’t make this weirder than it already is.” Quincy groaned. Unable to say no to the beast’s pleading look, Quincy rubbed his stomach gingerly. The beast’s fur was at least an inch thick. Alfred certainly would not be cold even on the chillest Yharnam nights, now.

Quincy almost envied him. All his worries, troubles, nebulous goals-gone just like that. Of course, they could no longer speak to each other, and Alfred was certainly no longer a romantic option. At least Quincy now had a slightly better idea of what was going on in Alfred’s head. Now he just had to get him to go to Djura, before some blood drunk idiot tried to hunt down what might possibly be the only friendly beast in Yharnam.

\---

Getting Alfred to follow him came with some difficulty. The beast seemed more interested in everything but the way to old Yharnum. Quincy was surprised that he seemed to see perfectly fine with such a fluffy fringe of hair covering his eyes. 

Quincy tried throwing his hat down the Chapel steps to try to get Alfred to rush down the stairs, only to groan as the beast happily trotted back, dropping a slightly mangled hat in Quincy’s hand. 

After much coaxing, bribes with affection (When Quincy lifted up his mane to scritch his cheeks, he noted that there were fluffy ridges of fur on both sides of the beast’s jaw. Somehow, Alfred’s mutton chops had escaped the transformation mostly intact.) Quincy was able to make it into the Chapel and down the stairs.

Alfred had balked at the room full of incense that lead to Old Yharnam, backing up as the heavily spiced scent hit him. Quincy spoke gently to him, guiding him through the narrow pathway by keeping a hand on his furry side to reassure him.

“It’s alright pal, we’ve faced worse than bad smells, right? Even as a beast, you are still the bravest man I know. Come on.”

The missing stairs were a new problem, Quincy anticipating trouble. As a man, Alfred often refused to climb ladders, citing a fear of heights, but Alfred lept down with ease, looking up proudly at Quincy as he descended the ladder. Finally, they both stood before the doors to Old Yharnam 

The creature shoved his nose-still large, even as a beast, against his hand, trying to get Quincy’s attention. Quincy laughed, burying his hand in his fluffy mane.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were happier this way.” The beast merely huffed in response.

“Sorry, that was a bit mean, wasn’t it? Alright, we gotta talk to Djura.” Quincy readied himself. Death by gatling gun had been rather painful, and if he returned from the dream, would Alfred wander off? Panic at his passing? Get hunted by a cruel hunter? Heavens, this must be how Djura felt all the time. He had thought Djura had been crazy, but now, looking at the massive beast that still remained his dearest friend, he understood Djura’s empathy for the beasts completely. Quincy was sure that he had not managed to hurt any of the Beasts during his last visit, with how rapidly he had been mowed down. Well, hopefully the old hunter would forgive him. Quincy opened the doors, stepping through. 

“Hunter! You again?” Came the amplified voice. Alfred jumped, startled by the sudden noise. “The dream is no excuse for you to keep coming back here. These beasts aren’t hurting anyone.”

Quincy put his hands to his mouth to create a natural microphone. “I’m not here to hunt! I have a patient!” 

He waited patiently for a response. 

“What?” Djura yelled back. Quincy groaned. 

“I have a beast!” Quincy yelled, louder. There was silence for a moment.

“I got my spyglass-let me read your lips.” Djura called. Quincy squinted, trying to see the man on his tower.

“I have a beast!” Quincy yelled again.

“You have a feast? What the hell does that mean?” 

Quincy groaned. He turned, coaxing Alfred out. The beast shied back, afraid of the sudden loud noises. 

“Come on, what did I say about you being brave? ‘Sides, how do you hear with all that hair in the way.” Quincy said gently as he stepped out, sniffing the air. 

Quincy looked over the scorched citicape, the beasts milling about in the distance. Some fires were still burning. Hell of a place to leave his friend in, but Old Yharnum might be the safest place for Alfred to be, as a beast. He never saw beasts attacking their fellows.

“Oh. A beast. Well, aren’t I getting foolish in my old age. Hold on lad, I’m coming down.” 

As Djura made his long way to them both, Quincy busied himself with stroking the Beast’s fluffy mane. Honestly, it felt weird, petting a friend like a dog, but Alfred seemed to like it. His massive, fluffy tail thumped loudly against the wooden doors.

Quincy watched as Djura approached. Several of the Beasts lurched at him, making swipes with their claws, but he never fought back. With grace that seemed unlikely in an old man, he dodged each attack. If Djura was still connected to the Dream, he seemed unlikely to need to reawaken anytime soon.

Suddenly, a different figure dropped from a burnt out rooftop behind Djura. Quincy wanted to yell, to warn the man what was coming, but Djura paid it no mind, not even turning around. As the two drew closer, Quincy relaxed when he saw Djura’s follower was just another hunter. If he was with the old man, then he must not be a threat to Alfred’s safety. 

“Well, I’ve never seen this type of Beast.” Djura said as he walked up the steps to greet Quincy. He studied the Beast, adjusting his hat so it no longer covered his eye. 

Upclose, Djura hardly looked threatening, more like the old, weathered frontiersmen back home, Quincy thought. He was not fooled. Anyone who could effortlessly dodge that many beasts was probably terrifying in combat, even without his massive gun. However, Alfred did not think so.

The beast drew back, hackles raised as Djura stepped closer, a low dangerous growl sounding in his throat. Quincy jumped back, hand reluctantly on his pistol. Had the friendliness before been a fluke? Had Alfred now lost every trace of himself? No. Quincy steadied himself, letting go of his pistol. He patted Alfred’s side, trying to get him to calm down.

The creature snarled, showing multitudes of large, sharp teeth as his lip curled. Djura put his hands on his hips, unswayed.

“Hey now. No need for an attitude.” He said, as if scolding a child. “So. Who is this, then?” The other hunter caught up with Djura, standing behind him silently. 

“A dear friend of mine. He just turned into this.” Quincy reached up and ran a hand down the beast’s spine, relaxing him instantly. 

“Interesting. He shows no aggression towards you.” Djura circled them both, pondering, Alfred watching him warily “He appears to be like a Cleric beast, except he’s hardly emaciated. Lack of Antlers-limbs all appear to be the same size, quadrupedal gait. Rather lovely coat. Interesting. Was he a Cleric, perhaps?”

“Something like that. Well. he was an Executioner.” Quincy said, despite being unsure if Alfred really WAS a real Executioner. Alfred always changed the subject when Quincy pried into his ‘Holy Mission’

“One of Logarius’s fanatic’s?” Djura rolled his visible eye. “That fellow in the chapel? He stopped poking around here real quick. A big gun tends to warn folks off, if the sign doesn’t get the message across. He makes an interesting Beast, for sure.”

Djura slowly reached a hand under Alfred’s chin, giving it a scratch. The beast melted happily into his touch.

“Secret technique.” He said, winking at Quincy. “I’ve never met a beast that can’t resist a good chin scratch. Of course, I only try it when they aren’t actively trying to maul me.”

“There are other friendly beasts?” Quincy asked. Djura smiled. 

“You’d be surprised. Only towards me and my pal here.” The other hunter bowed. “Of course, plenty of them are still a bit confused. Just gotta dodge away.”

“Why is he friendly, then?” Quincy asked. Djura pursed his lips in thought. The only sounds were the crackling of flames and the steady thump of Alfred’s tail.

“Has to do with the circumstances of transformation, I think. Did you find him like this?”

“Well, no. I found Alfred still turning. So I stayed. I comforted him, held him.” Quincy said, a touch of sadness coming into his voice. This was a lot to process. 

“Well, that’s why he’s not mauling everyone in sight. He didn’t turn alone. He didn’t have a mob of angry Hunters chasing him. He was with a friend.” Djura said warmly. The beast looked up at Quincy, smiling. 

“Will he be like this forever?” Quincy asked, afraid to know the answer. Beasts did not turn back, but none had ever survived past the night up in Yharnam. Perhaps, here…

“I don’t want to get your hopes up, kid. There are rare cases-” 

“Like myself.” The other hunter finally spoke, giving a short bow. Quincy looked at him in shock. Djura gestured to his companion casually. 

“Yeah, like him. All I do is make sure the beasts have food, water, and suddenly I walk in and one’s a man again. Dunno how it happened.”

“It is a rare thing. I was lucky.” The other hunter smiled, placing a hand on Djura’s back. Djura smiled at him, giving Quincy the idea that he and Djura shared a similar bond. “I believe it was caused by accepting myself, as a beast. It was enough to allow me to live two lives, one as a man, and one as one of the Beasts. If your friend accepts himself, he may walk as a man again.”

Quincy looked up at Alfred. Djura was still scratching his chin, the beast wagging his tail in contentment, tongue lolling happily.

“I don’t know if he will.” Quincy sighed. “He was very upset about becoming a beast.”

“Everyone is, lad.” The Hunter said gently. “Don’t lose hope.”

Quincy gave a sad smile, and wrapped his arms around the beast’s neck, burying his face in Alfred’s mane.

“We’ll take good care of him here.” Djura said reassuringly. 

“Very kind of you, but I’m not leaving.” Quincy replied. “I can’t hunt another beast after this.” He looked back at Djura, his jaw set determinedly. The beast looked from man to man, interested. 

“What I’m saying is, well, y’all got room for one more?” Quincy asked.

Djura stared at him in silence, his face unreadable as Quincy continued. 

“I’m used to roughing it, as long as I got a bedroll and a place to put it. I’ll just need to get my things, and I want to keep an eye on my friend-”

Djura laughed, clapping Quincy’s shoulder. His friend grinned.

“Of course, lad. Welcome aboard! Only rules are don’t hurt the beasts, and don’t touch the guns. It’s a lonely life down here. Beasts ain’t great conversationalists. Even my pal here isn’t much for talking.” The other man shrugged. 

“I only say what needs to be said.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Djura waved a hand. “Hardly say a thing most days. Anyway, if your friend here does turn back, well, it’s best you are here to explain things.”

Quincy chuckled, patting Alfred’s side, the beast rumbling contently. 

“If he turns back, I think he might die of embarrassment.”


	2. A continuation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your author posts the awaited second chapter after a million years. I'm sorry. Here's Alfred shirtless.  
> Also warning for very brief suicidal consideration. Waking up sure that you might have hurt or killed a friend is as dark as the fic gets.

Alfred shuddered. The chill from the wooden floor beneath him seemed to leech straight through the thin blanket and into his bones. He must have been up late hunting last night and had collapsed on the floor before he could even manage to make it to his bed. Too exhausted to even bother to move or even open his eyes, he continued laying there until a gust of wind rudely pummelled his form, raising goosebumps over his whole body. Scrambling to his feet, Alfred finally realized his perilous predicament. 

He was on a wooden scaffold that joined together the burned out wrecks of several buildings-some of which seemed to still be smouldering. Even worse, said scaffolding was nearly a hundred feet in the air, the worn out city streets a dizzying distance below. Alfred hugged the stone wall that the structure had been built on, heart racing at the sight. But perhaps the worst thing of all was that he was fully naked aside from the sheet. 

Feeling that the situation definitely called for it, Alfred gave out a sharp scream in the hopes such a primal reaction might clear his head. Watching a few birds take off at the sound, Alfred turned towards the stonewall, trying to orient himself. He was obviously in the rickety bridges and pathways that Djura had constructed in old Yharnam. So that not only meant he was defenseless and lost in a scorched waste full of beasts, but he was very likely to be shot on sight by the crazed hunter. He quickly wrapped himself as best as he could in the sheet, feeling something leathery fall out of it. Alfred looked down to see a battered, chewed, and slobbered on wide brimmed hat-Quincy’s hat. The realization was far colder than the wind and more dreadful than his fear of heights. 

He had been turning into a beast. It had started as a miserable ache in every joint, then moved on to far more obvious signs-pointed teeth, flattening pupils. Despite it all, Quincy had stayed by him. But here he was, human again, disoriented, and alone. Squeezing his eyes shut and stretching his arms out against the stone structure as if he was actually embracing the decaying building, Alfred thought the unthinkable as he slowly picked up the ruined hat. 

_‘I must have lost control. I probably turned on Quincy. I...Gods…What if I...what if I ate Quincy.’_

As a wretched beast, he probably wandered his way to old Yharnam,attracted by the other monsters, carrying his grisly trophy. Now, through some joke of the gods, he was here, human, aware of his crimes, and contemplating throwing himself off the scaffolding as he hugged Quincy’s ruined hat to himself, feeling tears prick his eyes. Quincy was connected to the dream-he had returned from certain death before, but his dear friend dying at his own hands, in such a gruesome way?

“Alfred!”

_‘Master Logarius would have me killed. If only someone was here to do a mercy killing on me. Perhaps I should wander towards Djura’s gatling gun.’_

“Alfred.”

Hunters worked in pairs to ensure this would never happen. He should have pushed Quincy away, rather than have him stay while he turned. 

“Alfred!” Alfred looked up from his teary contemplation of Quincy’s ruined hat to see Quincy very much alive, and very hatless beside him. The shock was almost fatal. 

“I heard you scream, I was so worried when you wandered off last night-” Quincy didn’t get another word out before Alfred had him in a crushing bear hug.

“I thought I ate you!” Alfred sobbed, crying into Quincy’s coat. 

“Thats-That’s a strange thing to say.” Quincy managed out, hyper aware of the thin sheet between him and Alfred, and how his companion had hugged him in such a way that his face was lodged quite firmly in his chest. “No, you just ruined my hat, cause you liked playing fetch with it.”

Alfred pulled back, letting Quincy breathe freely once more. “Fetch?”

“I’ll explain after we get you indoors. And clothed.”

\---

It was rough going for the both to return to where Quincy had been living. Quincy had given Alfred his coat, but the size and height disparity meant that Quincy’s jacket functioned more or less as a cape. Quincy huddled next to Alfred as they made their way back, halfway to share any body heat at all, halfway to help his friend deal with his acrophobia. Neither spoke, Alfred squeezing Quincy’s hand with fear every time he glanced down.

Quincy never thought he would be happier to see the ragged hole that led to Djura’s little headquarters. 

“Almost there.” he said, patting Alfred’s back. The man only gave a weary groan in response. 

After stepping past the tarp that was used as a makeshift doorway, Quincy bustled about, giving Alfred a far thicker and comfier blanket, and pressing a hot mug of tea in his hands. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, Alfred noticed they were not alone. Djura gave a wave from his seat across the cramped room, turning back to his work as if a naked once-beast was perfectly normal.

“Please, please tell me I did not do anything obscene.” Alfred said when Quincy returned with sugar.

“Well, not really.” Djura replied before Quincy could, tinkering with something. He was using an abandoned crate as a rather cluttered work desk. Knowing the Kegs, Alfred prayed that whatever it was, it would not explode.

“Well, you destroyed my bed roll.” Quincy said, grinning slightly. “Djura was kind enough to show me how to make and use a hammock.” 

“You only fell on your ass twice.” Djura chuckled, elbowing Quincy.

“Gracious. Why would I destroy it?”

Quincy and Djura exchanged knowing glances. Alfred went pale. 

“I apologize, I was not in control-” He started, despite having no idea what he would be apologizing for before Quincy chuckled reassuringly.

“I left to get supplies, and you panicked because you thought I was gone forever and dug a hole in the bed roll from stress. Then when I got home, you tackled me to the ground and slobbered all over my face.”

Alfred buried his head in his hands, his ears pink. Well, embarrassed to death was not how he thought he would go.

“What other crimes did I commit?” Alfred asked weakly, pulling the blanket around him tighter in embarrassment.

“Come on, you were a nuisance at worst, mate.” The old man replied, waving his screwdriver before continuing his task. “Honestly, I wish half the beasts around here were half as friendly. You mostly just bothered Quincy and myself for attention.”

“I’m sorry, I was not able to restrain myself while transformed-”

“Your favorite thing was getting your chin scritched. You have the softest fur of any beast I’ve encountered. What is your secret?” Djura asked, his one visible eye brimming with mischief.

“Secret? I wash every day, if that is what you mean.” Alfred said, confused. He had turned into a bloodthirsty, horrific beast, had he not? Listening to the old man and his companion, it sounded more like he had transformed into, well, rather embarrassingly, an overly friendly hound.

“Where do you find the time?” Djura exclaimed. “Never mind.” He said as Alfred opened his mouth to respond. “I’ve got to go check the perimeter. Don’t touch the work desk.”

\---

Both men were silent after Djura left. Quincy shifted on the workcrate, wondering what the appropriate thing to say in this situation would be.

“I suppose my robes did not survive the transformation.” Alfred said miserably. 

“Just the shawl. Sorry, I left it behind.” Quincy realized that he should have retrieved it. 

“You said I had been afflicted so for a week. This is Yharnam, so it has certainly been stolen.” Alfred moaned, burying his head in his hands once more.

“I’ll get you new clothes.” Quincy said, frowning at Alfred’s morose expression when he looked back up. 

“Those were one of the last Executioner robes to have survived. I repaired them, washed them gently every day.” A flash of hope dawned on his face, only to just as quickly dim. Quincy listened, concerned as Alfred muttered to himself.

“Perhaps I could make another pair? No, they will no longer be authentic, and where could I find a pattern, or the accurate fabric. Assuming I don’t freeze to death here first. At least, I think I have an extra pair of the gloves and boots, but they are a size too small, could I alter them, perhaps? Where would I find the leather, unless I take it from another pair of boots, not Executioner boots, of course.”

“Alfred.” Quincy tried to derail the slowly crashing train of thought Alfred had boarded.

“I could try the Workshop once more? Maybe there is something I missed the last time I looked there.Oh, it breaks my heart seeing the Workshop in such a state, abandoned and left to rot-yes?”

“I’m going to need your measurements to get you new clothes.”

“Oh! Of course. First things first.” He stood up, adjusting the blanket. Quincy averted his eyes too late when a corner of it fell, revealing the man’s muscular shoulders and chest. 

Why did his secret, painful crush on his friend always make him feel like a nervous schoolboy, he wondered as heat rose in his cheeks. Alfred seemed unbothered, tying the sheet carefully around his waist. If the blanket slipped off fully, Quincy was certain that he might die on the spot. 

“Any preferences?” Quincy said, trying to look at the floor, the ceiling, the broken window that Djura had nailed a sheet over, anywhere but Alfred’s bare torso. But he could not stop his traitorous eyes from gazing hungrily down Alfred’s dark chest hair, down the trail of hair leading below his navel- . Quincy forced his head away again, feigning intense interest in whatever Djura had been messing with. It appeared to be the remains of a pocket watch-non combustible, hopefully. 

“I suppose the standard hunting gear is fine.” Alfred looked around the tiny room, frowning. “Here I thought my own living arrangements were lacking. Does Djura live here?”

“And his pal. And me, for the last few days.” Quincy said, pointing to a hammock hung above his head.

“Ah. Well, my own sleeping arrangements might be difficult. I don’t think you could squeeze another body in here comfortably.” He said, putting his hands on his wide hips in deep thought. Quincy was often in awe of the man’s strength while they hunted, as he was unable to comfortably wield the heavy Kirkhammer himself. Quincy had never seen him without the multitude of layers of the Executioner's robes, but now, with his hunting partner's body laid bare, he could easily see the source of the man's incredible strength. His torso was thick, softness hiding the muscles underneath, the girth of a man to whom lifting a heavy hammer or far heavier burdens was thoughtlessly easy. Quincy found Alfred’s little extra quite charming. 

It was getting a bit warm in the room, suddenly. Quincy loosened his collar. Why did he have to end up with the only beefcake in Yharnam as his platonic hunting partner?

“Are you alright, Quincy? You look rather flushed.” Alfred asked, drawing close. Quincy felt like he was about to burst into flames.

“Oh! No, no, I’m alright.” Quincy said, keeping his eyes trained on the floor. 

“Dear Quincy, there's no need to be so shy, we are both men, you know.”

“Yeah, sure, just-don’t want to make you self conscious.” Quincy said, flustered.

“I just learned that I spent the last week as a beast. How much worse could things get?” Alfred said, giving him a weak smile.

“It wasn’t that bad.” Quincy said reassuringly. “I was mostly worried you wouldn’t be you again, you know?”

“I was too. I did not even consider this was a possibility. I truly embarrassed myself, didn’t I? That's why you are red with shame on my behalf.”

“I don’t think any less of you, if that’s what you mean.” Quincy managed. Gods, what a weird situation this was. Just yesterday, Alfred had been a beast, and Quincy had committed to never seeing him as a human again. Now Alfred was himself again, and making Quincy’s secret, painful crush agonizing. 

_‘I’m probably being a real creep right now. It’s just your hot friend. Naked. Look him in the eye and stop being weird about this, Morrison.’_

Quincy forced himself to do just that, smiling reassuringly. 

“Let me just find any kind of measuring tape.”

\---

“How did I end up in such a predicament?” Alfred asked. Quincy had been putting on mental blinders as best as he could, so the question took a second to register. 

“Um, well, you used to sleep on top of me as a beast, until you destroyed my bedroll.” From his position behind him, Quincy could see Alfred’s ears turn pink. 

“I apologize-”

“Alfred. You did nothing bad as a beast.” Quincy assured him. “If you could just put the measuring tape around your chest…” ‘ _So I won’t fluster myself further_ ’, He added mentally. He could feel Alfred’s body heat, making Quincy reflect on how starved he had become in Yharnam. 

“...Alright. So how did I end up on the scaffolding?” Alfred asked, dutifully holding up the tape to his gorgeously muscular chest. Quincy clenched his jaw, trying to keep up his resolve. 

“You were so upset that you couldn’t get up into the hammock with me-” Alfred looked almost comically mortified, making Quincy smile. “You were like a big dog.” Quincy explained.

“That is what is so embarrassing. To have lost control, so utterly.” Alfred said softly, as if he had committed some heinous crime.

“Anyway, you would wander at night with a blanket or sheet because you were mad. Guess that’s why you were there.” Quincy finished lamely, noting his chest measurements. The broadness of his chest and shoulders was making him swoon. 

“I’m sorry for invading your privacy so.”

“No, it wasn’t-it was rather sweet. Even as a beast you wanted to be my friend. You were never aggressive or mean to anyone.”

“I did not do anything horrible?”

“Gods, no, Alfred. I’ve been saying that this whole time.”

“You are refusing to touch me. I must have done something terrible.” Alfred pointed out.

“It’s...It’s not that.”

“Then tell me everything I did.” Alfred said firmly. “Do not spare any details.”

“Well...”

\---

The first night, Quincy had woken up to a crushing weight on top of him and a cold nose against his cheek.

“Alfred!” He gasped out. “Get off!”

The beast did not even move. Quincy tried lightly shoving him as best as he could off his chest. 

“Alfred, you are too big to be laying on me!” The beast gave a metallic whine, still refusing to move. Quincy settled from extracting himself from the bedroll, crawling out from under the creature, who took the opportunity to stretch out fully on the bed roll.

Quincy slept on top of his coat that night. In the coming days, he learned to shift positions so Alfred would only lay on his legs-even if his feet had that horrible pins and needles sensation when he woke up.

-

“Stop teasing him.” Djura paused mid throw, smirking at Quincy. 

“Why not? He should have realized what I’m up to by now.”

“All that preaching about beasts being people, yet you are being so cruel.” Quincy shook his head, trying to hide his smile.

Djura pretended to throw Quincy’s hat again, watching Alfred scramble after it. The moment the beast learned he was tricked once again, he gave an ear splitting howl, scratching his blunt claws against the wall of the shack in frustration.

Both Quincy and Djura cringed, covering their ears.

“You know, maybe it’s time to stop.” Djura admitted, grimacing. 

-

Quincy carefully teased the comb through the beast’s thick mane. Alfred, even as a beast, was blessed with remarkable patience, sitting perfectly still. The luxurious mane the beast had was terribly partial to matting, so Quincy had taken it upon himself to gently brush Alfred each night. He reflected on when his sisters were children, they loved brushing the hair of dolls and the manes of horses-and he had too, even after realizing that he was not another of the Morrison sisters.

Alfred nuzzled his fuzzy face against Quincy’s head, making him smile. “I love you too, you big goof. I still want you to turn back.” He lightly poked the beast’s nose, making him sneeze. 

-

“That is...quite embarrassing.” Alfred said, his face fully reddened. “But I suppose I did not do anything...bad.”

“I told you.” 

“Then why the trepidation about touching me?”

“Because you are very attractive, and I’m hot under the collar.” Came out before Quincy could stop it. Shit. 

“Oh! Thank you.” Alfred paused, his brain processing the sentence. “Attractive? Truly? Even after seeing me as a wretched beast?”  
  


Quincy sighed. This is not how he thought this would turn out. “Yes. Very much so.”

“Oh.” Alfred looked down at his forgotten tea, noting that it was getting cold. “Well. This is a lot to process.” Alfred finally took a sip of the tea, making both him and Quincy realize at the same time that it had not been sweetened yet.

Quincy gritted his teeth, wincing at the whole situation. What a mess. 

“I am quite fond of you as well.” Alfred smiled up at him, spooning sugar into the tea. 

“If...you need a little sweetness…” Quincy started desperately. There was no way this situation could get any more awkward, so he might as well take his chance. 

“Oh no, I have enough sugar.” Alfred looked up at him blankly, before he made the connection. “Oh! You wish to kiss me?” He asked, putting the tea down carefully.

“Yes-” Quincy managed out before Alfred took matters into his own hands, kissing him with the ferocity that had been absent during his time as a beast and nearly knocking them both backwards. The measuring tape lay on the ground, utterly forgotten. 

\---

Djura took a long drag on his pipe, biding his time a respectful distance away from the two younger hunters.

“What do you think they are doing in there?” His friend asked, leaning carelessly on the railing. 

“Sucking face, probably.” Djura gestured towards their makeshift hideout with his pipe. “All that ‘my dearest companion’ stuff. Sheesh. We never danced around the damn point like that.”

“I could start calling you my dearest companion.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly when I posted the first part, I was kind of embarrassed by it. It's kind of a weird concept for a canon where turning into a beast is this horrible thing. And now? I'm still embarrassed about it. But this should be a good wrap up for the fic. If you want more Quincy or my botched iteration of Alfred (not a werewolf this time, of course) my ongoing fic Sainted has recently hit over 70,000 words and 11 chapters!

**Author's Note:**

> First off THIS HAS NO CONNECTION TO SAINTED, this was a silly one shot I had an idea for and typed out during one day...how.  
> Inspired by the fact that the wiki points out the Alfred's pupils seem to be collapsing. While I'm 99% sure thats just how eyes look in this game (Seriously, get a good look during character creation) and his green eyes just show his pupils better then someone with darker colored eyes, I still thought...what IF he turned into a beast? Better yet, what if his beast form was a big, goofy, loving golden retriever instead of a mean, nasty monster?  
> I might add more chapters, but don't expect this to be too long, or serious. I still have to get through Sainted, and that's got enough melodrama. The most dramatic any addition to this would be Alfred turning back being mortified that he became a beast, and Quincy and Djura's ally being nice and sportive. I wish that guy had a name. Should I make one up? I hate doing that :(  
> The little doodles at the start and end of the fic are my own, just to add.  
> Edit: Turns out someone (Rashuu at Tumblr.com) had this idea WAAAAY before I did. Oops. https://rashuu.tumblr.com/post/173155619909/i-have-a-new-headcanon-thanks-to-wiki-no-he give their comic some love  
> EDIT DEC 2020: MERRY CHRISTMAS wow it's been a whole quarantine. Important update: I am working on chapter 2


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